Live in it Forever
by mockingjay56
Summary: Pre-epilogue. Katniss and Peeta, back in District 12 after the rebellion has destroyed most of Panem, try to find their lives again. And find each other in the process.
1. Chapter 1

**~All characters belong to Suzanne Collins~**

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The sun goes down, and I begin my daily battle to keep my eyes open.

I can't risk turning my mind off. Nightmares are now a permanent fixture in my mind, just waiting for the extended darkness of sleep to pounce and make my life a living hell. Sometimes they slowly seep into my consciousness when I'm awake, mixing up my already muddled thoughts with agonized screams and painful heartbreak.

I've learned to keep myself busy at night, even resorted to trying coffee again, as I try to prolong the almost blissful period between horrors. I do laundry. Clean my bow. Tie knots until my fingers are raw and bleeding. Anything. But there's only one true remedy. More than once I've woken up from a nightmare and found myself in front of my door, hand on the doorknob, feet geared to go two houses away from mine. To the only place I'm sure I can manage the darkness.

But he's not there.

I honestly don't know if he's still here. I haven't seen him at all since he planted the evening primroses outside my house. Even if he's living here, in District 12, _he's _not here. Not my Peeta. He was captured by President Snow, and I'm almost positive he's never going to see the light again.

Now, as I sit here at my table, watching the disappearing rays of orange and red in the sky, all I can think about is the hatred in his eyes when he screamed at Delly Cartwright in 13.

_A mutt! She's a stinking mutt!_

The cold defiance of his hands as they tightened around my neck, choking my feeling of elation from the moment of seeing him there, healthy. Forcing all of my hopes and dreams into the darkest part of my soul.

My eyes are beginning to get heavy, my mind beginning to wander. _No! _ I scream in my mind. The nightmares would be some of the worst yet tonight if I give in. I stand up and pace around on the kitchen floor, repeatedly splashing water on my face. I can't even remember the last time I slept. I wonder if Peeta does. I wonder if he's even here. I wonder if he remembers me. The old me. The girl on fire.

I'm finding it hard to remember her myself.

My thoughts are wandering again. I force myself to focus on something, anything. I go into the living room and pick up the broom, sweeping up the dust-laden floors. My eyes drift to the couch. _You could just sit down for a little while, _I tell myself. _Maybe then you won't be so sleepy. _I drift toward the couch. The broom drops to the floor. I land on my back and go out like a light.

I enter a dream-state. I'm surrounded my primroses and rues, blood coating their beautiful colors. Fire burns in the distance. In front of me, there's a heavy concrete door. I tug on it, and it opens without a sound. I step in, and am assaulted by the smell of human misery. The door slams shut behind me. I squint, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me in the dim light. Soon I see two figures, sitting on what appears to be damp ground. Shapes become more distinct. Colors swim into focus. I see two familiar people. Johanna and Peeta. They seem to be discussing something.

"Naw, she loves you," says Johanna in a hoarse, weak voice. "I saw it in her eyes on the elevator after the chariot rides, in your interviews, after the jabberjays in the arena. Compared to you, Gale is a schoolgirl crush."

Peeta seems conflicted. He takes a deep breath, preparing to say something. Just then, bright light floods the room. Peeta's eyes widen in fear. Two large, bulky figures march into the cell. They harshly pull Peeta to his feet, making him cry out in pain.

"We got something special for you." The larger one growls. They both laugh, and lead him out of the cell. Strangely, they leave the door open. I rush through it, wanting to reach Peeta, but instead I enter a small meadow. Then I'm running, away from something. No matter how long I run, no matter how much my lungs burn, I stay in the same place. Soon the thing I was running from catches up to me, knocking me to the ground and pinning me by my shoulders. I look up in the face of my assailant. It is Peeta. Gale is standing behind him, knife in hand, laughing maniacally. Peeta morphs into bear with the same honey-colored hair, same blue eyes. His teeth elongate into 5-inch switchblades, slowly going in and out of his mouth His weight crushes me, my spine, and he brings his paw down with a force that cracks my head open.

I wake up. Curled into a ball on the floor, hands clutching my face. My throat is raw from screaming. I stand up, and black spots dance in my vision.

I need him.

Making a split-second decision, I walk over to my door on wobbly legs and only hesitate for a moment at my doorknob before thrusting it open to the warm summer night. I run to his house, felling paranoid, feeling chased by the Peeta mutt. I see a small, flickering light in one of the upstairs windows. It's wide open. I take a deep breath, gathering my courage, and knock on the door.

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**Me writing more depends on if I get any reviews! Please, tell me your opinions!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the nice reviews! More to come very soon!**

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My hand comes to a rest at my side. What have I done? I need to avoid making Peeta's life harder. It will only cause him pain. I need to go.

But before I leave, I hear the sound of a blow, something tearing. A frustrated yell comes from the center of the house. An object crashes to the floor.

Another yell. Another crash.

The sound pulls me toward the door. I hesitantly twist the knob and pull. It's unlocked. I step inside.

The entryway is dark, except for the small light coming from at the end of the hallway. I step across in my bare feet, blind. I reach the light and stand in the doorway. There are canvases everywhere. They're colored with paint, but most of the paintings seem unfinished. The vivid pictures are of Disitrict 12, the Capitol, tracker jackers, fires. There are people, too. Darius and Lavinia, being tortured in the Capitol. His family, burning to death in the bakery. A young Delly Cartwright, fashioning a disproportionate man out of dough. Then, of course, there's me.

I can tell he's still not sure of anything. Shiny images are mixed in with real ones. To my left, there's one of me, standing at the Cornucopia in a blue jumpsuit, raising a bow to my shoulder. Right beside it, I'm hovering above him in a white cell, holding a syringe filled with green liquid, a demonic grin on my face.

A shuffling sound makes me turn swiftly to the right. Peeta is sitting on a stool, facing away from me, head hunched over. Lying on the floor beside him is an easel, a painting resting on it. It's of me, on the Capitol train during the Victory Tour. The canvas has been pierced by a paintbrush.

I slowly step out of the room, but my foot catches on an easel, making me crash to the floor. Peeta's head jerks up, and he stands up instantly, making the stool fall. He turns to me, but I have crawled into the hallway, melting into the shadows. The pain in his eyes makes me wince.

"Hello?" Peeta calls.

Of course, there's no answer.

He runs his hand though his hair, then walks to the kitchen. I softly stand up and tiptoe out the door, shutting it silently. Rushing across the green, my feet get soaked in the water left from the rain we had yesterday. When I get to my house, I sit at the kitchen table. There's no danger of sleep now. I sit, motionless, until the sun comes up. I think the same thought over and over again, until it fills my head with a hopeless drone, on and on.

_He's worse. Much worse. **How can I help him?**_

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_****_**So, yeah. Sorry it's so short. Keep on reviewin' and more to come in a few days**


	3. Chapter 3

I sit at my table long after the sun goes up, feeling the soft morning rays on my face, trying to answer my question. It doesn't seem like a feat one person can take on, and all of my answers are awful. I need someone that has had more experience in the world.

Someone that loves Peeta too.

I make this realization and suddenly spring up and walk out of my house. The morning is brisk, with a scent that brings memories of hunting with Gale. I wonder if he misses me.

I find myself at Haymitch's door and brace myself for the abomination behind it. I push open the door, and find the floor swept cleanly, windows newly washed. There's fresh bread on the counter in the kitchen, a fire is built up in the mantel, and the floor isn't covered in dust like it ought to be. Someone must be coming, cleaning up, because Haymitch never cares what condition he's in as long as he has his bottle. I find him on the couch, staring out the window, as I did not ten minutes ago. I cross the hallway, enter the living room, and make myself visible. Haymitch looks as sober as I've ever seen him, shaved, his hair neatly trimmed. His face has lost that grimness that's usually there around the clock.

"I need your help," I say, never really the one to waste words.

He nods knowingly. "I know. You've been holed up in that house for weeks. I can hear you screaming. I was almost afraid you'd gone mad." He smiles. _Smiles. _"Of course, I already thought you have."

I don't return the smile. I'm not in a smiling mood. "How can I make Peeta better?" I say brusquely.

He thinks for a long time before answering. "He asks about you a lot. Things I wasn't there for. I can't answer half the things he asks. He seems to forget about you for a while. He seems almost… happy. Then he sees a picture of you somewhere, a glimpse of you on T.V., a painting he hasn't looked at for a while, and he gets hopeless again."

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice catches. "So you're saying I need to stay as far away from him as possible?" This is one alternative that I kept thinking was the only answer to my problem.

"No. You need to spend as much time as you can with him. Sort things out." Haymitch says softly.

My eyes widen. This has taken me completely off guard. I never expected Haymitch, of all people, to want me to spend time with the boy that tried to kill me on numerous occasions.

But he has saved me far more.

I'm so startled I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Just a sort of whimper. I shut it, swallow, and say "I'll keep it in mind." Then I get up without saying another word, walking with stiff, small steps to the middle of the Victor's Village where my house now stands.

I take my seat at the table again, staring out my window. I realize I've been staring at Peeta's house the entire time.

I spend a long time, just sitting at the table, thinking about everything, sorting out my thoughts, until I get to the root of my problems. _I'm scared. _Scared for my life. Scared the boy with the bread will never come back.

Scared he might not ever love me again.

I feel it's my duty to help him. He's given up so much, just for me to live. And I don't consider this state he's in now living, it's so torturous. I still owe him for everything he's done to help me. Haymitch said half the things Peeta asked him he couldn't answer. And he's the one that would know the most. How despicable I am, letting Peeta go on, trying to sort out his hijacked thoughts on his own, just because I'm scared for my own wellbeing. I may be the only one that can pick up the broken pieces and put them together again.

And now is a good time as ever to start.


	4. Chapter 4

adn then adam young of owl city blew up katniss and peet peet and buttercup and adam"s dawg max ate the ashes because owl city is better than the hunger games lol

and i don't like it anymore so

¯\_(ツ)_/¯


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